Meadowbrooke Church

Meadowbrooke Church
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Podcast for Meadowbrooke Church Season 1 - Identity (Ephesians) Season 2 - Christians Say the Darnedest Things - Season 2 Season 3 - The Shepherd (Psalm 23) Season 4 - Faith & Works (James) Season 5 - Guest Speakers Season 6 - The Tree Season 7 - Unassigned Season 8 - Revelation

  1. 2D AGO

    How Long, O Lord?

    My friend Shana Reif suffered from Cystic Fibrosis, a genetic disease that primarily affects the lungs and other organs. It causes thick, sticky mucus to build up in the airways, leading to repeated infections, inflammation, and progressive lung damage. In many cases, the disease can advance until the lungs can no longer do what God created them to do—bring oxygen into the body and sustain life. Cystic Fibrosis is a horrible and incurable disease, and it was the disease Shana endured all her life. When she was born, her parents were told she would not live much past her twentieth birthday. But Shana lived to be thirty-two. I came to know Shana in high school, not long after I became a follower of Jesus. After high school, we became very close friends. She edited my Bible college papers, and I visited her often during her many hospital stays. I also visited her at home as she recovered from the latest infection. By 2003, her lungs had been so damaged by chronic infections that she was placed on the waiting list for new lungs. She received a double lung transplant in 2004, but even then, her suffering did not fully end. Her body remained fragile. Her fight continued. But Shana loved Jesus. Though she struggled deeply with her disease, she held onto the hope of the gospel. One of the last emails I received from her was signed with words from her favorite hymn: “Great is Thy faithfulness.” In 2007, Shana died from complications after a procedure to reopen a constricted airway. When someone you love suffers like that, the question “How long?” is not theoretical. How long will disease ravage bodies? How long will death take those we love? How long will God’s people suffer in a world still broken by sin? How long before Christ makes all things new? Revelation 6:9–11 brings us to that question. But here, the cry comes specifically from those who have been slain because of the word of God and the testimony they maintained.   The Martyrs: The Cost of Their Witness (v. 9) There are three cycles of judgment in Revelation: the seals, the trumpets, and the bowls. These cycles do not unfold in strict linear succession—seals, then trumpets, then bowls—but recapitulate the same period of history with increasing intensity, like birth pains. For our purposes, I simply want you to notice one pattern that helps us understand what is happening in this passage. In each cycle—the seals, trumpets, and bowls—the first four judgments affect the world in broad, visible ways, but the fifth shifts the focus. The fifth seal shows the saints crying out for justice (Rev. 6:9–11). The fifth trumpet shows judgment beginning to fall on the enemies of God—those who do not have the seal of God on their foreheads (Rev. 9:1–12; especially 9:4). The fifth bowl shows judgment reaching the very throne of the beast, whose kingdom wages war against all who refuse to worship him (Rev. 16:10–11; cf. Rev. 13:7–8, 15). This is why the first four seals show us the horsemen riding across the earth. But when the fifth seal is opened, the focus shifts from what is happening on earth to what heaven sees when God’s people suffer because of the word of God and the testimony they maintain. These martyrs are not beneath the altar because they were victims of history. They are there because they belonged to the Lamb and remained faithful to the word of God and the testimony of Jesus. Their witness cost them their lives. John is showing us what Jesus had already told His disciples: “If anyone wants to come after Me, he must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow Me” (Matt. 16:24; NASB). The fifth seal reminds us that following Jesus is not merely a call to believe certain truths about Him; it is a call to bear faithful witness to those truths, even when obedience is costly. Polycarp is said to have been a disciple of the apostle John and later became the bishop of Smyrna. Smyrna, you may remember, was one of the seven churches Jesus addressed in Revelation. Jesus told that suffering church, “Be faithful until death, and I will give you the crown of life” (Rev. 2:10). Years later, Polycarp was arrested and ordered to deny Christ. When pressed to renounce Jesus, he replied, “Eighty and six years have I served Him, and He never did me any injury: how then can I blaspheme my King and my Saviour?” Polycarp’s witness cost him his life, but heaven did not see his death as Rome did. Rome saw a criminal to be silenced. Heaven saw a faithful witness beneath the altar. And we do not have to go back to Polycarp to see this kind of witness. You may remember the twenty-one Coptic Christians who were taken by ISIS in Libya and led onto a beach in orange jumpsuits. They were ordinary men who refused to renounce their faith in Jesus. Their blood was shed on earth, but Revelation 6 reminds us that heaven did not miss a drop. The world saw men being led to execution. Heaven saw faithful witnesses beneath the altar. Since 2015, conservative estimates suggest that more than 50,000 Christians have been killed for faith-related reasons around the world. According to Open Doors’ 2026 World Watch List, North Korea remains the most dangerous country in the world to be a Christian, while Nigeria is the deadliest, accounting for 3,490 of the 4,849 Christians killed for their faith during the latest reporting period. The seals describe the birth pains that mark this present age. The first four seals show us a world marked by conquest, war, famine, and death. But when the fifth seal is opened, we are shown what heaven sees when God’s people suffer because of the word of God and the testimony they maintain.   The Altar: The Cry Before God (v. 10) Notice that John not only tells us that these faithful Christ-followers suffered and died for their faith, but also tells us where he saw these Christians. They are “under the altar.” This is a crucial detail that you can only understand if you know something about the Old Testament tabernacle that God told Moses to build. Scripture tells us that the earthly tabernacle was a copy and shadow of the one in heaven (Heb. 8:4-5; Exod. 25-31; 35-40). So when John sees an altar in heaven, he is not seeing something new, but the heavenly reality to which Israel’s worship had always pointed. Within the tabernacle, there were two primary altars. The bronze altar stood in the courtyard, where sacrifices were offered. The altar of incense stood near the Most Holy Place, close to the ark of the covenant, which represented the throne of God. Both altars help us understand what John sees. The blood of the sacrifice was poured at the altar’s base, and the incense rising before the Lord symbolized the prayers of God’s people ascending into His presence. So when John sees the souls of the martyrs beneath the altar, he sees their lives as precious before God and their prayers as heard before His throne. In the earthly tabernacle, a veil stood between the priests and God's immediate presence. But in heaven, no curtain hides His throne from His redeemed people. The martyrs are not far from God. They are beneath the altar, before the throne, and in the presence of the Lord God Almighty. Now, picture what is happening before John’s eyes. Those who suffered the ultimate cost for following Jesus are not behind the altar, nor are they on top of the altar. These saints are under the altar, which tells us that they are closest to the throne. Also, the martyrs are not passive, but are actively pleading for vindication in God’s heavenly court. There is no magical language here, for their cries are raw and honest. There is no anger hurled before God,  but cries of vindication in light of their understanding of who God is!  Notice what these dear saints include in their prayer: “O Sovereign Lord, holy and true...” Now let’s stop there for a moment. The ESV translates the word well as “Sovereign Lord.” The Greek word used here is not the most common term for Lord, kyrios, but despotēs, and this is the only time it appears in the entire book of Revelation. The word these martyred saints use conveys absolute ownership, supreme authority, and sovereign mastery. We get our English word despot from this word, but while despot usually carries a negative meaning in English, that is not the case when despotēs is used of God in the New Testament. When used of God, it emphasizes His complete authority over creation, His servants, history, judgment, and justice. This matters because these Christians are not merely crying out to God as sufferers, asking whether He cares. They are crying out to the One they know to be the Sovereign Master over all things. They are appealing to the One who has the authority to judge, avenge, vindicate, and bring history to its appointed end. They are not crying out in doubt. They are crying out in faith. They know He is able. They know He is holy. They know He is true. And they know that the Sovereign Lord will do what is right. Notice what the saints attribute to God next.  Not only is He the Sovereign Master, but He is holy. These saints who have suffered much understand that their God is utterly set apart from all evil, corruption, compromise, and injustice. He is not like the kingdoms and the kings of this world. He is not indifferent to injustice and the bloodshed at the hands of the wicked. He is not morally conflicted. He is pure in all His judgments, righteous in all His ways, and completely opposed to everything wicked. He is holy and these saints know it!  God is not only holy; He is also true. When these saints plead their case before the throne of God, they do so knowing that He is faithful to all He has promised. He does not forget. He does not make empty threats or hollow promises. What He has spoken, He will do (Num. 23:19; Josh. 21:45; Isa. 55:10–11; Titus 1:2; Heb. 10:23). So when these martyrs cry, “How long?” they are not

    45 min

  2. MAY 17

    The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse

    We all wear glasses in this room. I am not referring to your contacts or the physical glasses your eye doctor prescribed. I am referring to your worldview—the lenses through which you interpret everything you see: God, yourself, others, suffering, evil, history, the purpose of life, and the future. In our world today, people use a wide range of worldviews to make sense of reality. Theism holds that a personal God created and rules the world. Naturalism holds that the physical universe is all that exists. Pantheism identifies God with the world or sees God as present in everything. Postmodernism treats truth as personal, socially constructed, or tied to power. Nihilism holds that life has no ultimate meaning, purpose, or moral order. Most people do not wear only one pair of glasses. They switch lenses depending on what suits them—a little theism for comfort, a little secularism for control, a little skepticism against authority, and a little self-rule for freedom. It may feel meaningful in the moment, but it cannot finally correct the vision problem. It still leaves reality blurred. One of the clearest symbols of modern humanity’s hope was the World Trade Center. It took twelve years, from the earliest design stages in 1961 to the ribbon-cutting in 1973, to complete the Twin Towers, at a cost of about $900 million. The chief architect, Minoru Yamasaki, said the World Trade Center should become “a living representation of man’s belief in humanity, his need for individual dignity, his belief in the cooperation of men, and through this cooperation his ability to find greatness.” That is a remarkable statement. The towers were meant to say something about us: our greatness, dignity, cooperation, and our ability to build a better world. Yet on September 11, 2001, it took less than two hours for those towers to fall, and nearly 3,000 lives were lost. Brothers and sisters, that is not merely a tragedy in American history. It is a parable of the world we inhabit. We live in a world of conflict, bloodshed, injustice, suffering, and death. We build towers and call them peace. We create systems and call them progress. We trust power, wealth, cooperation, technology, politics, and human greatness to bring stability. Yet again and again, the world proves unable to save itself.  What we need is a biblical worldview—a way of seeing the world through the lens of God’s Word. Revelation pulls back the curtain on human history—past, present, and future—so we can see things as they really are. In Revelation 6:1–8, that curtain is drawn back on the world we know all too well: a world marked by conquest, war, famine, injustice, suffering, and death. Yet Revelation does not show us these things to make us despair. It shows us these things so we will see that the horsemen are permitted to ride only because the Lamb has the authority to open the seals. Before we go any further in this sermon, do not miss who opens each seal. It is not the horsemen. It is not the devil. It is not the antichrist. It is not kings, nations, armies, or empires. The Lamb alone has the authority to open the seals and to allow the horsemen to ride. As the Lamb opens the first four seals, do not think of the horsemen as strange figures waiting to be released in the distant future. Instead, think of them as the symbolic unveiling of the very world Jesus told us to expect—a world marked by conquest, violence, exploitation, and death. Yet Revelation 6 shows us something the evening news never can: the horsemen ride only because the Lamb opens the seals, and He alone is worthy to do so.   The Horsemen and the World Jesus Told Us to Expect  We are now entering a section of Revelation that may challenge how many of us have been taught to think about the end times. For many Christians, passages such as Revelation 6 and Matthew 24 have been interpreted almost entirely as future events, often within a framework known as the seven-year tribulation. Many have also been taught that the church will be removed from the earth before that tribulation begins. I realize that, for some of you, that may be the only framework for understanding the end times you have ever known. Faithful Christians have held different views on these matters, so my goal is not to mock what you have been taught or force you into a different system. My goal is simply to ask you to do what the Bereans did—to search the Scriptures and see whether these things are so (see Acts 17:10-11). What I want to show you is that Revelation 6 and Matthew 24 are not describing realities completely disconnected from the church’s present life. Jesus Himself told His disciples what this present age would look like: And Jesus answered them, “See that no one leads you astray. For many will come in my name, saying, ‘I am the Christ,’ and they will lead many astray. And you will hear of wars and rumors of wars. See that you are not alarmed, for this must take place, but the end is not yet. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and there will be famines and earthquakes in various places. All these are but the beginning of the birth pains.” (Matt. 24:4-8) Revelation 6 is not describing a strange world the church has never seen. It pulls back the curtain on the age Jesus described—a world marked by conquest, violence, exploitation, suffering, and death. The four horsemen symbolize realities that have marked human history since Christ’s ascension and will end when He returns. Yet Jesus’ words also keep us from hopeless despair. These things are not the end. They are birth pains. And as painful as birth pains are, they remind us that something is coming: the kingdom of Christ in all its fullness. Until that day, the horsemen ride. Like birth pains, the realities they represent continue throughout this age and increase in frequency and intensity as history moves toward the return of Christ and the birth of the new creation. But understand this: they do not roam at their own leisure. The Lamb reigns, and He alone has the authority to open the seals. So when the Lamb opens the seals and the four horsemen are revealed, we are shown the world Jesus told us to expect. But we are also shown what the world cannot see: conquest, violence, exploitation, and death are not rogue realities, nor do they unfold outside His sovereign will and authority.   The White Horse: The Lust for Conquest (vv. 1-2) There is some debate about what the rider on the white horse represents, largely because certain features seem to mirror the way Jesus appears in Revelation 19:11–16, particularly the white horse He rides and the crown He wears. Others believe the rider represents a false Christ or even the antichrist because he seems to mimic Jesus’ appearance. The problem with these views is twofold: first, Jesus is the One who opens each of the seals; and second, the remaining horsemen clearly represent forces of destruction rather than specific individuals. There are other suggestions, but the context of Revelation 6 suggests that the rider on the white horse belongs with the other three horsemen: war, famine, and death. Together, they represent the destructive realities that mark this present age. This connection may be reinforced by the first living creature who announces this horse and rider. Notice that the first living creature has the face of a lion, representing strength, majesty, and power among the wild creatures. It is this creature that introduces the rider on the white horse. If there is a symbolic connection between the creature who speaks and the horseman who appears, then the first horseman fittingly represents conquest—the lust of kings, nations, empires, and rulers to expand their power, secure their kingdoms, and impose their will on others. Unlike the kingdom Jesus will bring, this rider represents fallen humanity grasping for dominion apart from God. This horse and its rider promise peace but never deliver it. Their creed is simple: “If we can gain enough territory, enough power, enough influence, enough control, then we can secure the future.” But Revelation shows us the truth: conquest does not lead to peace. It prepares the way for the red horse.   The Red Horse: The Vandalism of Peace (vv. 3-4) The Lamb then opens the second seal. In response, the heavenly creature with the face of an ox, representing domesticated strength, service, and labor—the kind of creature people use to bring forth life from the earth—says, “Come!” Then the red horse appears, and its rider is permitted to take peace from the earth so that people may slay one another. If the white horse represents the lust for conquest, the red horse reveals what that lust produces. The world promises peace through power, but Revelation shows that power seized apart from God does not preserve peace; it vandalizes it. When God gives sinners over to themselves, the restraints that hold back violence are removed, and the human heart is exposed as it is and what it is capable of. This is why the rider is given a great sword, symbolizing violence, bloodshed, and the destructive force of war. From the first murder in Genesis 4 to the wars and rumors of wars Jesus said would mark this age like birth pains in Matthew 24, human history has been stained with the blood of those created in God’s image. Nations rise against nations. Kingdoms seek to outdo kingdoms. Brother turns against brother. Neighbor turns against neighbor. When sin-cursed humanity seeks dominion apart from God, even in the name of peace, peace is among the first casualties. Make no mistake: the rider on the red horse is not rogue. He is only “permitted” to take peace from the earth because the Lamb has authority to break the second seal. He does not seize the sword; he is “given” a great sword. The breaking of the second seal shows that even the violence of this age is not outside the s

    50 min

  3. MAY 10

    The Crescendo of Heaven

    About the same time the book of Revelation was written, a Jewish historian named Josephus, who was not a Christian, wrote about Jesus. Though the wording of the full passage has been debated, the basic testimony is striking: Jesus was known as a wise man, a worker of remarkable deeds, a teacher, one who gained followers, was crucified under Pilate, and whose followers did not disappear: “Around this time there lived Jesus, a wise man—if it is right to call him merely a man. He performed remarkable works and was a teacher of people who gladly received the truth. He attracted many Jews and many Gentiles. He was the Christ. When Pilate, at the urging of our leading men, condemned him to the cross, those who had loved him from the beginning did not abandon him. For he appeared to them alive again on the third day, just as the divine prophets had foretold this and many other wonderful things about him. And the tribe of Christians, named after him, has not disappeared to this day.” It is possible to know many true things about Jesus and still miss the weight of His worth. Josephus could describe Him as a wise man, a worker of remarkable deeds, a teacher, and one condemned to the cross. But Revelation 5 pulls back the curtain of heaven and shows us what all creation will one day confess: Jesus is not merely remarkable. He is worthy. The following is a list of twelve windows into the glory of the Lamb and why it is that He is worthy.  Jesus is worthy because He is Judah’s Lion (v. 5) Judah was a deeply flawed man who sold his younger brother Joseph into slavery, deceived his father, abandoned his daughter-in-law, and hid behind hypocrisy. But God changed Judah’s heart, and by Genesis 44, Judah was willing to sacrifice himself to save Benjamin, the youngest son who was dearly loved by their father. Later, Jacob blessed Judah with a promise that the promised serpent-stomping King would come through him: “Judah is a lion’s cub... The scepter shall not depart from Judah, nor the ruler’s staff from between his feet, until tribute comes to Him; and to Him shall be the obedience of the peoples” (Gen. 49:9–10). That promise finds its fulfillment in Jesus Christ. Jesus is more than Judah’s descendant; He is Judah’s promised Lion—the true and better Judah who offered Himself as the sinless Substitute for His people. He is the One to whom the scepter belongs, the One before whom the obedience of the peoples will one day be gathered. He is the Lion of the tribe of Judah, and He has conquered sin, death, and the dragon. Jesus is worthy because He is God’s Lamb (v. 6) We cannot have the Lion as our friend unless we first have Him as our Lamb, for Scripture declares, “without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins” (Heb. 9:22; see Lev. 17:11). This theme runs throughout the Bible. In Genesis 22, Isaac carried the wood for the sacrifice and asked, “Where is the lamb for a burnt offering?” Abraham answered, “God will provide for Himself a lamb” (Gen. 22:7–8). In Exodus 12, Israel was sheltered from wrath by the blood of the spotless lamb, and in Isaiah 53, the suffering Servant is portrayed as the Lamb pierced, crushed, and slaughtered for the iniquities of guilty sinners. So when John the Baptist cried out, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29), he summed up the promises and the point of the Old Testament. Jesus is the Lamb God provided, the Passover Lamb whose blood shelters His people from judgment, the sacrificial Lamb whose blood makes atonement, and the suffering Lamb who bears our sins. Apart from the blood of the Lamb, the Lion is not our comfort but our Judge. But for those covered by His blood, there is no condemnation. Those of us who have the Lamb know that the Lion is not against us but for us.  Jesus is worthy because He can take the scroll (v. 7) He alone has the right to receive and enact God’s plan to judge evil, redeem His people, and restore creation. The scroll contains the sovereign plan of the Lord God Almighty—the One who says in Isaiah 46: “I am God, and there is no other… declaring the end from the beginning… saying, ‘My counsel shall stand, and I will accomplish all my purpose’” (Isa. 46:9–10). The scroll is in the right hand of this God, and when no one in heaven, on earth, or under the earth was found worthy to open it or even look into it, John wept bitterly. If the scroll remains sealed, God’s promises remain unfulfilled, sin and death are not finally defeated, the saints are not vindicated, and creation is not restored. But the Lion who is the Lamb came forth because He alone is worthy to open the scroll. He took it from the right hand of the Father. This was not theft but triumph. This was not presumption but due to the worthiness of the Preeminent Lamb. Jesus alone has the right to open the scroll because He alone has conquered by His blood. The destiny of creation is in the nail-scarred hand of the Lamb who is the Kinsman-Redeemer. Jesus is worthy because He is the unconquerable King (v. 6) When John turns to see the Lion worthy to open the scroll, he sees “a Lamb standing, as though it had been slain.” The One who knew no sin and became sin for us bears every scar from the cross as a reminder that His sacrifice was once for all: “the righteous for the unrighteous” (1 Pet. 3:18)! The Lamb stands because death could not keep Him. The Lamb stands because the grave could not hold Him! The Lamb stands even though He was rejected by men, condemned by rulers, mocked by the religious leaders, and nailed to the cross... He stands at the center of heaven’s throne room, victorious. His wounds testify to His triumph. The Lamb who was slain is worthy because He is the King who cannot be conquered. Jesus is worthy because He is the Omniscient King (v. 6) The unconquerable King is seen with seven horns and seven eyes. As you may recall, in Scripture, horns symbolize strength, power, and sovereign authority, while eyes symbolize sight, wisdom, and knowledge. The number seven points to fullness and perfection, which means the Lamb who was slain is not weak but all-powerful, not limited but limitless, not unaware but all-seeing. He shares the wisdom and sovereignty of the Ancient of Days. Nothing escapes His sight. No enemy can hide from Him. No suffering saint is forgotten by Him. No act of faithfulness goes unnoticed by Him. The Lion, who is the Lamb, sees all and reigns over all by the fullness of the Spirit sent into all the earth. Jesus is worthy because He is the King whose reign is as extensive as His holiness, goodness, justice, love, grace, and mercy. Jesus is worthy because He is creation’s Lord (vv. 7-8) The living creatures and elders fall before Him because the Lamb is creation’s Lord through Whom all of creation exists. The four living creatures represent the created order, and the twenty-four elders represent the redeemed people of God. The worship that belongs to the Lord God Almighty is directed to Jesus not only because of what He has done, but also because of who He is. All things were created through Him and for Him (Col. 1:16), and now all creation bows before Him as One who is equal with the Father. The Lamb who was slain is worthy because He is the Creator, Sustainer, Redeemer, and rightful Lord over all things. Jesus is worthy because He was slain as the sinner’s ransom (v. 9) The blood of the Lamb is the price of our redemption. The new song of heaven celebrates this: “Worthy are you to take the scroll and to open its seals, for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation...” The Lion of Judah is the willing Lamb who stands before those He came to save; He is the Kinsman-Redeemer that creation needs. The price was not the religious deeds of fallible man, but the life of the second Adam, who lived the life we could not live and died the death we deserved. We were once enslaved by sin and stood condemned before God as guilty sinners, but Jesus gave His life to ransom us and set us free for God.  Jesus is worthy because He was slain in our place, bore the judgment we deserved, paid the debt we could not pay, and purchased us by His precious blood. Jesus is worthy because He redeemed a people for mission (vv. 9-10) Jesus did not ransom, redeem, and save sinners from condemnation merely so they could occupy space in His kingdom; He redeemed them for His kingdom purposes. We are not only forgiven of our sins; we are restored to the purpose for which humanity exists. Jesus saved us to send us into the world as His ambassadors and the Father’s priests. We are priests before God, and we live under the reign of Christ as citizens of His kingdom. This is why Peter says, “But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for His own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light” (1 Pet. 2:9). Jesus is worthy not only because He rescued us from the wrath of God we deserved, but also because He restored us to what we were created to be. Jesus is worthy because He is the song of the angels (vv. 11-12) After the song of the four living creatures and the new song of the twenty-four elders, John turns his attention to what he hears around the throne. What he hears is an innumerable host of angels resounding with praise:  “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain,  to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might  and honor and glory and blessing!”  The angels erupt in praise after those who represent redeemed humanity conclude theirs. Why? Because the second person of the Trinity took upon Himself human flesh, was born of a virgin, and came to redeem a lost, rebellious, and cursed race (Phil. 2:1-11). This is something angels find baffling, for Peter tells us that our salvation

    46 min

  4. MAY 3

    The Lion and the Lamb

    “The cannibals! You will be eaten by cannibals!” That was the warning John G. Paton received when he announced his call to take the gospel to the New Hebrides. An older man in his church—known simply as Mr. Dickson—tried to dissuade him. From a human standpoint, the concern was understandable. Paton’s ministry in Glasgow was thriving. Hundreds gathered each week, lives were being changed, and the work was fruitful. Why would anyone leave such a place? The New Hebrides were known as one of the most dangerous mission fields in the world. Just nineteen years earlier, in 1839, missionaries John Williams and James Harris had landed there and were killed within hours. Their deaths were still fresh in the minds of many, and the opposition Paton faced came not from enemies of the gospel, but from concerned Christian friends. Reflecting on this moment, Paton later wrote, “The opposition was so strong from nearly all… that I was sorely tempted to question whether I was carrying out the Divine will… This also caused me much anxiety, and drove me close to God in prayer.”   Paton replied to Dickson’s warning: “Mr. Dickson, you are advanced in years now, and your own prospect is soon to be laid in the grave, there to be eaten by worms; I confess to you, that if I can but live and die serving and honoring the Lord Jesus, it will make no difference to me whether I am eaten by Cannibals or by worms; and in the Great Day my Resurrection body will rise as fair as yours in the likeness of our risen Redeemer.” The danger was real, the opposition was understandable, and the cost was high—but Paton was convinced that Christ was worthy, even there. When Paton arrived in the New Hebrides in 1858, the cost became immediate. Within weeks of landing on the island of Tanna, his wife, Mary, and their newborn son both died of fever. Paton buried them with his own hands and even slept on their grave to protect it. It would have been understandable for him to leave. Yet he did not abandon his calling. For over forty years, he labored among those islands, convinced that Christ was worthy and that even the hardest soil was not beyond the reach of God’s saving power. Paton’s story did not end with his life. It helped fuel a missionary movement. The gospel did not stop in the New Hebrides; it continued to spread across the Pacific, eventually reaching places like Papua New Guinea, where the cost remained high and the danger real. Even today, the fruit of that gospel work remains. Why would a man risk everything for such a mission? Paton went because he believed Christ was worthy of whatever sacrifice it would cost to bring the gospel to those who had never heard—even at the risk of his own life. Revelation 5:6–10 shows us why.   The Lion is a Lamb (v. 6) Remember what the scroll represents. In Revelation 5:1–4, John’s attention turns to a scroll in the right hand of God—a scroll that contains His sovereign plan to judge evil, redeem His people, and restore all creation from the curse of sin. It is held securely by the One who rules history with perfect authority. Within it lies the full scope of redemptive history: God’s judgments, the vindication of suffering saints, the defeat of sin and death, and the final restoration of all things—including the new heaven and new earth. It holds both justice and hope—the outpouring of God’s wrath on evil and the fulfillment of His promises to save, dwell with, and rejoice over His people forever. But as a mighty angel asks, “Who is worthy to open the scroll?”, a crisis unfolds. No one in heaven, on earth, or under the earth is found worthy, and John begins to weep. And rightly so—because if the scroll remains sealed, God’s promises go unfulfilled, sin goes undefeated, and redemption never reaches its goal. At that moment, everything hangs in the balance. Then a voice breaks the silence: “Weep no more; behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah has conquered” (v. 5). The answer is not found in human strength or angelic power, but in a person—the promised King, the fulfillment of every promise of God, the One who alone has the right to redeem. And it is this Lion—this conquering King—that John turns to see. Yet when he turns, he is confronted with something utterly unexpected. Between the throne and the four living creatures stands a Lamb as though it had been slain. The promised Lion reveals Himself as the sacrificial Lamb of God. Victory has not come through crushing God’s enemies but through the crushing of the Son of God, who willingly and obediently went to the cross “like a lamb that is led to the slaughter” (Isa. 53:7), bearing the iniquities of sinners. What John sees is not a contradiction but the key to everything. The Lion has conquered—but He has conquered as a Lamb. He stands triumphant, bearing the marks of the cross. John understood what this meant, and we must understand it as well: the One who is worthy is the One who has given Himself for you. However, John not only sees a Lamb—he sees a Lamb with seven horns and seven eyes. In Scripture, horns symbolize power and kingship, and seven signifies divine completeness. This Lamb possesses perfect, sovereign authority. His seven eyes represent complete divine wisdom and perception, corresponding to the sevenfold Spirit of God sent out into all the earth. Nothing escapes His sight, and no judgment exceeds His wisdom. These are not random details—they are a testimony. The One who stands at the center of the throne is not merely a symbol of sacrifice but the One of whom Jeremiah spoke: “Yahweh our Righteousness” (Jer. 23:6). He is the Lion of Judah, the Lamb who was slain, and the sovereign Lord over all. Yet this is not all that John sees and experiences. The Lion who is a Lamb is also the Redeemer.    The Lamb is the Redeemer (vv. 7-8) This Lamb is worthy not only because of who He is but also because of what He has done. The Lamb is the Redeemer. In the Old Testament, a kinsman-redeemer was a family member who could step in when everything had been lost. But not just anyone could serve as a redeemer—he had to be a close relative by blood, possess the resources necessary to redeem, and be willing to do so. That is why Boaz could redeem Ruth, yet Boaz was only a shadow of a greater Redeemer to come. Naomi had lost everything—her husband, her sons, and her security. The land that belonged to her family was in danger of being lost forever. But Boaz, as a relative, stepped in. He had the means and was willing. By marrying Ruth, he redeemed the land, restored the family, and provided an heir. What was lost was restored, and what was empty was made full.   But what humanity needed most was not merely the restoration of what was lost—we needed the reversal of the curse, reconciliation with the God we sinned against, and the renewal of all things. When Adam sinned, all was ruined—sin entered the world, death followed, and creation fell under the curse of his rebellion. What was needed was a true and better Redeemer—one who could stand in the place of fallen humanity and restore what had been lost. This is what makes Jesus worthy to open the scroll. He became one of us so that He could be the Kinsman-Redeemer we need. He has the power to redeem because He is fully God. His willingness to redeem was demonstrated in that He embraced the cross, bearing our sin and becoming our curse. That is why, in Revelation 5, He steps forward and takes the scroll—because He alone meets every requirement. He alone is the Kinsman-Redeemer. Through His incarnation, Jesus shares in our humanity. Through His divine Sonship, He possesses infinite authority as One equal with the Father. Through His willing sacrifice, He demonstrates beyond question His desire to redeem. The wounds of the Lamb are the proof of His willingness—and the scroll in His hand is the declaration of His worthiness. Now, do not miss what happens in verse 8! Upon taking the scroll, the four living creatures—whose appearance represents the created order—fall before the Lamb in worship. The same creatures who, in the previous chapter, declared of the One on the throne, “Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come” (4:8) now fall before the Lamb to worship Him! And if that were not enough, the twenty-four elders—representing the people of God in both the Old and New Testaments—also fall before the Lamb in worship. How do we know they worship Him? Because they serve Him—offering songs to Him and presenting the prayers of His people before Him. They fall before the Lamb because He is the One who stands as our High Priest. For all of Scripture testifies, Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need. (Heb. 4:14-16) Do not miss the significance of this moment. In Exodus 20, God commands: “You shall not make for yourself an idol… You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I, the LORD your God, am a jealous God…” (Exod. 20:4–5; BSB). Worship belongs to God alone. All of Scripture is clear—no created thing is worthy of worship. Yet in Revelation 5, all creation—represented by the living creatures—falls before the Lamb. The elders fall before the Lamb. Heaven itself erupts in worship directed to the Lamb. What does this mean? It means the Lamb is not merely part of creation—He is the reason creation exists. The Lamb whom heaven worships is the One Scripture testifies to: “For by Him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and i

    43 min

  5. APR 26

    Behold the Scroll

    In 2016, I was gifted a second-generation Apple Watch. Since then, I’ve worn a smartwatch almost exclusively—until recently. I still wear my Apple Watch, but I now also wear a mechanical watch—one that needs neither a battery nor a charging cable. It runs on a finely engineered system of gears, springs, and a self-winding rotor that winds as I move my wrist. When I wear it, I’m wearing a timepiece with hundreds of tiny components working in harmony—visible through the caseback, moving like a heartbeat. There is an older and grander clock in our world—the Strasbourg Cathedral Astronomical Clock, located inside the Cathédrale Notre-Dame in France. The clock you see today is more than 180 years old, yet it stands in a long tradition of timekeeping at that very location stretching back centuries. It does far more than tell time; it tracks the calendar, calculates leap years and the date of Easter, and reflects the movements of the heavens. Though it may appear complex—almost chaotic—every gear turns exactly when it is supposed to. Nothing is random. Everything functions according to a precise, intentional design. If this is true of a man-made clock, how much more is it true of history itself? Scripture shows that history is not random but ordered—designed and directed by the One who sits on the throne. This is what we saw in Revelation 4. John was given a glimpse of heaven’s throne room, and what he saw was not chaos but the Lord who orders all of creation according to His will. What John saw was a God sovereign over all things, faithful to His promises, and worthy of all worship. What John experienced was a creation that is oriented toward the Lord God Almighty (Rev. 4:8). But as the vision continues into Revelation 5, something shifts. The throne remains, and the One seated upon it has not changed. Yet now our attention turns to the scroll that is in His right hand—and to a tension that brings all of heaven to a standstill. Before we consider the scroll, we must understand why it is in His right hand.   The One Who Holds the Scroll (v. 1a) If creation is ordered by a sovereign God, history cannot be random or out of control. The fact that the scroll is in the right hand of the Lord God Almighty is not incidental—it is significant. In the song of Moses (Exod. 15), we are given a glimpse into what the right hand of God represents: “Your right hand, O LORD, is majestic in power; Your right hand, O LORD, shatters the enemy” (v. 6; NASB). The right hand is the hand of strength, authority, and power. It is the hand by which God acts. What is held in the right hand of God is not uncertain or fragile—it is secure. He holds it because He is sovereign, all-powerful, and unstoppable. This is why we know that all that exists, does so as a creation ordered, directed, and sustained by the sovereign hand of the God who has been, who is, and who will be on the throne. This is the God of whom the prophet Isaiah writes:  “...remember the former things of old; for I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me, declaring the end from the beginning and from ancient times things not yet done, saying, ‘My counsel shall stand, and I will accomplish all my purpose,’ calling a bird of prey from the east, the man of my counsel from a far country. I have spoken, and I will bring it to pass; I have purposed, and I will do it.” (Isa. 46:9-11) When the apostle Paul addressed the philosophers in Athens, he spoke of this same God: “The God who made the world and everything in it, being Lord of heaven and earth… gives to all mankind life and breath and everything… having determined allotted periods and the boundaries of their dwelling place… for ‘In him we live and move and have our being’” (Acts 17:24–28). All of history is moving in one direction. There are no do-overs, no rewinds, and no pause buttons for the trajectory of history or where it is headed. History is a current you cannot stop, and its force carries everything forward. In that stream, our lives are a flash—a moment that is here and then gone (Jas. 4:13-17). And yet, if we are honest, most of our lives are lived with little consideration for this God—the One who created all things and who is sovereign over it all. He is not bound by time, because He created it. He has determined the appointed times and boundaries not only of mankind, but of all creation. He has no needs, and yet He is the One who “gives to all mankind life and breath and everything” (Acts 17:25). This is the One who sits upon the throne. A verse from the Bible appeared on one of my social media feeds, and I want to share it with you: “Turn my eyes away from worthless things; revive me with Your word” (Ps. 119:37). The Hebrew word for “worthless” (שָׁוְא, šāwe’) refers to what is empty, vain, futile, and ultimately inconsequential. If there is no God, and if the Bible is not true, then the “worthless” things are all that we have. If the Bible is true—and the God revealed in its pages is real—then the words of C. T. Studd are not just poetic; they are a call to action: Only one life, yes only one, Soon will its fleeting hours be done; Then, in “that day” my Lord to meet, And stand before His judgment seat; Only one life, ’twill soon be past, Only what’s done for Christ will last.   Only one life, the still small voice, Gently pleads for a better choice; Bidding me selfish aims to leave, And to God’s holy will to cleave; Only one life, ’twill soon be past, Only what’s done for Christ will last.   The Significance of the Scroll (v. 1b) So what is the scroll? Theologians and scholars have offered different ideas and suggestions based on what they have read in the book of Daniel and elsewhere. The key to understanding the scroll is to pay attention to what happens when each of its seals is broken. We must pay careful attention to what happens when its seals are broken. As each seal is broken, the process of judgment, redemption, and restoration begins. This is not simply information to be shared; it is a purposeful plan set into action.  The most direct Old Testament parallel is found in Ezekiel 2:9–10, listen to what the prophet Ezekiel said about a scroll he saw: “And when I looked, behold, a hand was stretched out to me, and behold, a scroll of a book was in it. And he spread it before me. And it had writing on the front and on the back, and there were written on it words of lamentation and mourning and woe.”  What the prophet saw was a scroll written on both sides, filled with words of lamentation, mourning, and woe. You will see this when we get to Revelation 6, but for now what you need to know is that as the seals on the scroll are broken, sorrow, judgment, and woe are released throughout the earth.  So, let me tell you what the scroll represents. It represents God’s righteous judgments, but it is more than that. The presence of all seven seals symbolizes perfect fullness and absolute inviolability. What does that mean? It means no one will be able to crack the code to hack the scroll, because it is secure.   But that is not all. Within the scroll are the seven trumpets and the seven bowls of the wrath of God—through which the full and just judgment of God is poured out on all who are not covered by the blood of the Lamb. Yet the scroll is not only about judgment. Within it is the vindication of suffering saints, the removal of the curse of sin, the death of death itself, the new heaven and the new earth, and the physical presence of the Kingdom of God dwelling with His people. Within this scroll is the fulfillment of what the prophet Isaiah promised: “So the redeemed of the LORD will return and enter Zion with singing, crowned with everlasting joy. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee” (Isa. 51:11; BSB). And within it is the day when God Himself will rejoice over His people, as Zephaniah declares: “The LORD your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness; He will quiet you by His love; He will exult over you with loud singing” (Zeph. 3:17). Listen: the scroll is not merely a record of events—it is the will and testament of God, revealing His sovereign plan to judge evil, redeem His people, and restore creation. The scroll contains the full scope of God’s redemptive plan and is held securely in the right hand of the One seated on the throne. He who holds the scroll in His right hand is the Father, who declares, “My purpose will stand, and all My good pleasure I will accomplish” (Isa. 46:10; BSB). The seven seals signify that His plan is complete, perfect, and unstoppable—but there will be no wiping away of tears, no fleeing of sorrow and sighing, nor the Father’s rejoicing and singing over the redeemed if it is not opened!    Only One Can Open the Scroll (vv. 2-5) After seeing the scroll in the right hand of the Father, John then sees a “mighty” (ischyros) angel who proclaims with a loud voice: “Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seals?” The word ischyros is used only three times in Revelation to describe an angel, meaning “strong” or “mighty.” Each time it appears, it marks a decisive moment in the unfolding of God’s purposes—whether announcing what is to come or signaling final judgment. But in Revelation 5, the mighty angel does not act—he proclaims. With a voice that thunders throughout heaven, he asks the question on which everything depends: “Who is worthy?” This is not a question of strength or ability, but of worthiness. The question is not arbitrary—it is necessary. If the scroll is the deed of creation and contains the Father’s plan and purpose to judge evil, redeem sinful humanity, and restore a cursed creation, it cannot be opened by just anyone. What is required is not mer

    36 min

  6. APR 19

    He Who is Worthy

    We live in a day when worship is often treated casually—but Scripture makes it clear that God does not take worship lightly. And yet, many of us rarely stop to consider what is actually taking place in heaven right now… what true worship really looks like before the throne of God. Last week, we were given a glimpse into that throne room, where everything centers on the One who sits upon the throne—surrounded by splendor, power, and unshakable sovereignty. But as John’s vision continues, our attention now shifts from the throne itself to the worship that surrounds it. After the Lord delivered Israel from the clutches of Pharaoh by parting the Red Sea, Moses and the people sang a song of praise. At the center of that song is this question: “Who is like you, O LORD, among the gods? Who is like you, majestic in holiness, awesome in glorious deeds, doing wonders?” (Exod. 15:11). It is here that we are reminded why we exist—not for ourselves, but for God, whose holiness sets Him apart from all else. Scripture repeatedly shows us what happens when that holiness is not regarded. Nadab and Abihu approached God in worship on their own terms—and they were consumed (Lev. 10:1–2). Uzzah reached out his hand to steady the ark—and he was struck down (2 Sam. 6:6–7). These are not isolated incidents. They are warnings. Worship that disregards the holiness of God is not merely deficient—it is dangerous. For as the Lord has said, “You shall be holy, for I am holy” (Lev. 11:44; cf. 1 Pet. 1:16). And it is precisely this holiness—the holiness that cannot be ignored, redefined, or approached on our terms—that fills the throne room of heaven in Revelation 4, where unceasing worship rises before the One who is “holy, holy, holy.” The worship we see in Revelation 4 is not casual, and it is not optional—it is the only right response to who God is. So if Revelation 4 shows us what true worship looks like in heaven, then the question we must ask is this: Why is God so worthy of that kind of worship?   We Worship the LORD Because There is No One Like Him (v. 6a) Revelation 4 shows us that the experience of God’s presence is not rooted in what we feel, nor is it produced by the latest worship song—it is grounded in the truth of who God has revealed Himself to be in His Word. Do you remember what I said about the sea of glass before the throne of God? The sea represents chaos and opposition to God’s purposes, and it is from the sea that the beast comes. Yet here, before the throne, the sea is stilled, reminding us that what threatens creation elsewhere is powerless in His presence.  In the presence of the One on the throne is where the redeemed find shalom (peace).  What John sees in Revelation 4 is not only a display of power—it is a revelation of who God is. He is the Lord Almighty who rules over all things. He is a covenant-keeping God who keeps His promises. And He is a worship-worthy God before whom all of heaven bows down. And what is heaven’s response? “Worthy are you, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power…” He is worthy—not because of what He gives, but because of who He is.  There is only one other place in Revelation where the sea of glass is referenced, and it appears in Revelation 15—the fourth of the seven heavenly throne-room scenes in John’s apocalypse. There, John describes the same sea of glass, but with an added detail: “And I saw what appeared to be a sea of glass mingled with fire—and also those who had conquered the beast and its image and the number of its name, standing beside the sea of glass with harps of God in their hands” (v. 2). At the Red Sea, God’s presence stood between His people and their enemies—bringing light to one and judgment to the other (Exod. 14:19–20). In Revelation, that same reality is intensified as the sea itself is mingled with fire (Rev. 15:2)—symbolically pointing us back to Exodus 14, where God prevented Egypt from pursuing Israel (Exod. 14:24–25). After allowing Pharaoh and his army to begin crossing the parted sea, He then consumed the enemies of God by bringing the waters of the Red Sea upon them (Exod. 14:26–28). This connection is not incidental. The redeemed stand beside the sea with harps in their hands and sing what John calls “the song of Moses… and the song of the Lamb” (v. 3). Just as Israel stood on the far side of the Red Sea and sang of their deliverance, so now the people of God stand victorious and sing once more—only this time, their deliverance is final. And just as the plagues of Egypt preceded Israel’s redemption, so here the song is sung on the threshold of judgment, just before the seven bowls of wrath are poured out—judgments that unmistakably echo the plagues that fell upon Egypt. For now, let’s focus on a single verse from the song Israel sang after crossing the Red Sea: “Who is like you, O LORD, among the gods? Who is like you, majestic in holiness, awesome in glorious deeds, doing wonders?” (Exod. 15:11). In Revelation 15:3–4, a similar song is taken up and directed to the Lamb: “Great and amazing are your deeds, O Lord God the Almighty! Just and true are your ways, O King of the nations! Who will not fear, O Lord, and glorify your name? For you alone are holy. All nations will come and worship you, for your righteous acts have been revealed.” What began as a song of deliverance at the Red Sea becomes, in Revelation, a song of final redemption before the throne—and at the center of both songs is the same unchanging truth: there is no one like Him.   We Worship the LORD Because He is the Creator of All (vv. 6b-7) We are now introduced to four living creatures whose praise echoes that of the seraphim in Isaiah 6, who declare of the One on the throne: “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts; the whole earth is full of His glory” (Isa. 6:3). Like the seraphim, these creatures have six wings, but unlike them, they are described as being full of eyes in front and behind. These eyes symbolize unceasing awareness—nothing escapes their sight as they live in continual service before their Creator. At the same time, each creature is distinct, representing a different realm of creation and reflecting the goodness of the One who made all things. There are four creatures because they represent the fullness of creation, yet each highlights a distinct category of created life. The creature like a lion represents the wild animals—strength, majesty, and power. The creature like an ox represents domesticated animals—service, endurance, and strength under authority. The creature with the face of a man represents humanity—intelligence, reason, and the image of God. The creature like an eagle in flight represents the birds of the air—swiftness and dominion in the skies. Together, these four living creatures represent the strongest, wisest, most powerful, and most majestic forms of created life—and all of them are oriented toward the worship of their Creator. Some scholars have also noted a possible connection between these four living creatures and the way Israel was arranged in the wilderness. In Numbers 2, the twelve tribes were divided into four groups and positioned around the tabernacle, with the presence of God at the center. Later Jewish tradition suggests that each group bore a distinct image—such as a lion, an ox, a man, and an eagle—images that closely resemble the creatures described here. If this connection is valid, it adds another layer of meaning: the living creatures would not only represent the fullness of creation, but also reflect the people of God gathered in ordered worship around His presence. In that sense, they may point to humanity as it was always meant to be—a community centered on God and devoted entirely to His glory. Whether these creatures are the cherubim described elsewhere in Scripture or a distinct class of heavenly beings, the point remains clear: they represent all of created life, and they perform the very function that all of creation was designed to fulfill—which is worship. And like the seraphim, they never cease to say: “Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come!” (v. 8).   We Worship the LORD Because He is Perfectly Holy (v. 8) The declaration of the four living creatures is not that He is love—though He most certainly is. Nor do they declare that He is just, though everything around the throne testifies to His perfect justice. They do not highlight any of His other attributes. Instead, they declare the one attribute that lies at the very core of all that He is—His holiness. And they declare it to the highest degree. He is not merely “holy,” nor even “holy, holy.” No—our God is: “Holy, holy, holy!” This is the only attribute of God raised to the third degree in all of Scripture.  But what does it mean that God is holy? To be holy is to be set apart and separate from all that is sinful, impure, or morally imperfect. As it relates to God, there is nothing like Him in all of creation, and there is nothing in Him that is flawed, corrupt, or deficient.  God’s holiness is the beauty of all that He is. Stephen Charnock rightly said, “Holiness is the beauty of all God’s attributes.”  Brothers and sisters, it is God’s holiness that makes Him glorious—it is what makes His justice just, His mercy merciful, and His power pure. This is why the worship of God is both serious and dangerous. As Michael Horton argues in his book In the Face of God, the danger is not in drawing near to God—the danger is in doing so on our own terms. Nadab and Abihu approached God on their own terms—and they were consumed (Lev. 10:1–3). Uzzah reached out his hand to steady the Ark, assuming his hand was cleaner than the dirt—and he was struck down (2 Sam. 6:6–7). Ananias and Sapphira were more concerned with their image

    47 min

  7. APR 12

    The One on the Throne

    Revelation 4 is one of those chapters in the Bible that should leave us breathless by its sheer majesty and beauty. There are moments in this world that cause us to step back and marvel—yet even those are only a faint glimpse of something far greater: “O LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens” (Ps. 8:1). Scripture gives us glimpses that prepare us for what John sees here. Moses stood before a burning bush and was told, “Take your sandals off your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground,” and when God revealed Himself, Moses hid his face (Exod. 3:1–6). Isaiah saw the Lord “high and lifted up,” heard the seraphim cry, “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts,” and responded, “Woe is me! … for my eyes have seen the King,” yet even there mercy followed: “Your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for” (Isa. 6:1–8). But there is another scene that parallels Revelation 4 in a particularly striking way—Exodus 19. And what we are about to read is nothing less than a glimpse of what it looks like when the living God descends in power and glory: On the morning of the third day there were thunders and lightnings and a thick cloud on the mountain and a very loud trumpet blast, so that all the people in the camp trembled. Then Moses brought the people out of the camp to meet God, and they took their stand at the foot of the mountain. Now Mount Sinai was wrapped in smoke because the Lord had descended on it in fire. The smoke of it went up like the smoke of a kiln, and the whole mountain trembled greatly. And as the sound of the trumpet grew louder and louder, Moses spoke, and God answered him in thunder. The Lord came down on Mount Sinai, to the top of the mountain. And the Lord called Moses to the top of the mountain, and Moses went up.  At Sinai, the people stood at a distance and trembled—but in Revelation 4, a door stands open in heaven, and John is invited to come up and see. And what is staggering is this: the same God who descended in fire at Sinai now reveals Himself from the throne of heaven. Before we begin, since Revelation 4–5 is the first of seven heavenly throne-room scenes, you need to understand why it is here. These scenes are not given to satisfy our curiosity, but to fuel our worship. They shape our perspective and reorient our lives. They serve as a lens through which we are to see all of human history. In other words, before John is shown what is happening on earth, he is first shown what is true in heaven.   Yahweh is a Sovereign God (vv. 1-2) John looks—and behold… an open door! He is invited into the throne room of God, much like the prophet Isaiah, who was given a vision of the same sights and sounds. The apostle Paul experienced something similar in 2 Corinthians 12:2–4, when he was taken up to what he called the “third heaven” and said that what he heard “were too sacred for words, things that man is not permitted to tell.” What John is invited to see is the very place where God’s presence dwells—what we know as heaven. We are not told whether this was an in-body or out-of-body experience, but what he saw was real. Scripture tells us that God is “immortal, invisible, the only God” (1 Tim. 1:17), who “dwells in unapproachable light” (1 Tim. 6:16). Yet John tells us what he saw: “a throne stood in heaven, with one seated on the throne” (vv. 2–3). This is the first and most important thing John wants us to see: God is on the throne. And remember where John is. He is on Patmos—exiled by the most powerful empire in the world. His friends are gone. Some have died violently. He is old, worn down, and alone. And what does he see? God is on the throne. What was it that Isaiah saw that we can assume John experienced? Isaiah said, “I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up; and the train of His robe filled the temple.  Above Him stood the seraphim” (Isa. 6:1-2a).  What the old and exiled apostle experienced when He witnessed the throne-room of God was that God is living, the One described in Isaiah 40 who “is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He, who does not faint or grow weary; whose understanding is unsearchable” (v. 28).  The throne that stood in heaven is the one Isaiah described as “high and lifted up.” This means He is great in power and might—in other words, He is omnipotent! In Revelation 4:8, the One on the throne is declared to be “the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come.” He does not have an off day, nor does He grow weary or become frustrated, because He is totally and completely sovereign. There is no “whoops” and there is no “my bad” in the vocabulary of God Almighty.  The One on the throne is Yahweh, and He is a sovereign God who can be trusted.   Yahweh is a Covenant-Keeping God (v. 3) What John describes next reveals what Yahweh is like. Notice what he says: “And he who sat there had the appearance of jasper and carnelian, and around the throne was a rainbow that had the appearance of an emerald” (v. 3). The colors of jasper and carnelian are associated with the stones affixed to the high priest’s breast piece, where each stone represented one of the twelve tribes of Israel, with their names inscribed upon them. Carnelian was the first stone, representing Reuben, and jasper was the last, representing Benjamin. What John saw was not merely a display of color—it was a theological statement radiating from the One on the throne: God is a covenant-keeping God. He is faithful to His people even when His people are unfaithful. He keeps all of His promises. But that is not all. Around the throne was a rainbow that looked like an emerald. This takes us back to Genesis 9, where the rainbow was given as a sign that God would not destroy the earth with a flood again and that He is the God of mercy who saves those He loves. It also echoes who God is: “The LORD, the LORD, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness… but who will by no means clear the guilty…” (Exod. 34:6–7). In other words, mercy surrounds the throne of God—but not at the expense of His justice. From the throne come “flashes of lightning, and rumblings and peals of thunder…” (v. 5). This is not theatrics—it is the language of Sinai: “Mount Sinai was wrapped in smoke because the LORD had descended on it in fire… and the whole mountain trembled greatly… and God answered him in thunder” (Exod. 19:18–19). What John sees is not something new, but the same God who descended in fire at Sinai, whose voice shook the mountain, and before whom the people trembled. But now He is not confined to a mountain—He is seated on a throne. This is the same presence that caused Isaiah to cry out: “Woe is me! … for my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts” (Isa. 6:5). Oh, this is no theatrics at all! This is the presence of Yahweh—the God of Noah, who spared a family and flooded the earth; the God of Abraham, who set His love on a man who did not seek Him; and the God of Moses, who called an inadequate man to lead Israel out of slavery. He is the God who shows mercy—and the God who executes judgment. The One on the throne is holy, holy, holy! He is not safe and not to be managed. And yet—He is the One who calls sinners to Himself and brings them into covenant, so that they may know Him as Father and be known by Him as His children, rather than remaining under His just wrath. Even the emerald rainbow serves as a reminder of the unrelenting mercy, grace, and love of a holy God. Although Scripture does not explicitly connect it to Judah, the color of royalty surrounding the throne fittingly anticipates the Lion of the tribe of Judah—who is also the Lamb.  Oh, dear weary Christian, Yahweh is a Covenant-Keeping God! Though you may feel He is far off or has forgotten you, He will not fail you. He is with you in your Patmos, and He has not forgotten His promises to you.    Yahweh is a Worship-Worthy God  What is heaven’s response to the One seated on the throne—the One who spoke creation into existence? Worship. Isaiah helps us see this in his description of the seraphim. While John and Isaiah both describe these creatures as having six wings, Isaiah tells us what they do with them. As they surround the throne, they cry out: “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory” (Isa. 6:3). With two wings they cover their faces, with two they cover their feet, and with two they fly. These sinless creatures, who would strike fear into the hearts of men, do not presume to look upon the Holy One, nor do they consider themselves worthy even to leave their feet uncovered in His presence. John adds another detail: the twenty-four elders, clothed in white garments and wearing golden crowns on their heads. Throughout Revelation, their posture is unmistakable: they “fall down before Him who is seated on the throne and worship Him who lives forever and ever.” Prostrate before the Lord God Almighty, they cast their crowns before Him and declare: “Worthy are you, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they existed and were created” (vv. 10-11).  Theologians differ on the identity of these elders. Some see them as angelic beings, others as glorified saints, and still others as a symbolic representation of the fullness of God’s redeemed people. I am convinced of the latter. The number twenty-four reflects the twelve tribes of Israel and the twelve apostles—together representing the complete people of God. As Paul writes in Ephesians, So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the

    55 min

  8. APR 5

    The Triumphant Christ

    The problem with man-made religion is that it creates a system where you must go up to God. Let me give you some examples: Siddhartha Gautama (Buddha) said, “By oneself is evil done; by oneself is one defiled. By oneself is evil left undone; by oneself is one purified. Purity and impurity depend on oneself; no one can purify another. Confucius taught that personal excellence is achieved through discipline, desire, and effort. Karl Marx said that religion is “the sigh of the oppressed creature… the heart of a heartless world… the soul of soulless conditions… the opium of the people,” and that real change comes when we change the world ourselves. And Benjamin Franklin famously wrote, “God helps those who help themselves.” What’s my main point? It’s that we humans have been trying to fix ourselves for thousands of years—and we keep ending up at the same dead-end street. Whether it’s religion telling us to reach up to God, or philosophy telling us to fix the world ourselves, the message remains the same: “It’s on us.”  Christianity tells a very different story, because the message of the Bible is not that we need to reach up to God, but that He came down to us by sending His only Son, and in Philippians 2:5–11 we see just how far He was willing to come down.   Jesus Became Like Us (vv. 5-7) Humanity was created in God’s image to worship Him and reflect His glory in the world. As Genesis tells us, “God created man in his own image… male and female he created them” (Gen. 1:27). Humanity was not just another part of creation but a unique reflection of the Creator, called to live under His rule and blessing. At the center of the garden stood the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, from which God forbade them to eat, warning, “in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die” (Gen. 2:17). Yet everything changed when the serpent questioned God’s word: “Did God actually say…?” (Gen. 3:1). The core of the temptation was a challenge to God’s goodness. Eve saw, took, and ate—and Adam followed (v. 6). Their rebellion shattered their innocence: “the eyes of both were opened… and they sewed fig leaves together” (v. 7). Instead of life, they chose death. Believing the serpent’s lie, they doubted God’s goodness and received not blessing but the curse He had warned about. Since then, humanity has been trying to fix what was broken. We attempt to deal with sin, guilt, and brokenness through our own efforts, but we always fail. No amount of effort can undo what sin has done. We cannot cleanse our hearts, nor can we reach God by our own might. This is why Jesus became a man. He did not come because we were succeeding but because we were incapable of meeting God’s holy standard. God came to us when His Son entered our sin-cursed world, because there was no way we could climb out of it. Jesus became like us because it was impossible for us to become like Him. As Paul writes in Philippians 2:5–7, “though he was in the form of God, a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.” Jesus did not begin in Bethlehem. He has always existed as God. Though He possessed all divine rights, He did not cling to them but took on humanity. The One who created all things entered His creation, descending into our curse, yet without sin. And His works—giving sight to the blind and life to the dead—testify that He is, and always has been, God. Why did Jesus become like us? This is why He came: “For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost” (Luke 19:10). He came to fulfill a promise spoken by the prophet Isaiah hundreds of years before His birth: “Come now, let us reason together, says the Lord: though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool” (Isa. 1:18).    Jesus Died for Us (v. 8) Now, I know we are celebrating the resurrection of Jesus Christ today, but His resurrection makes no sense apart from His crucifixion. Before our sins could be made white as snow, they had to be placed upon Him—every sin, every failure, every stain. All of it. From His first cry in the manger to His prayerful plea in the garden of Gethsemane, Jesus lived under the shadow of the cross. And He never ran from that shadow—He moved toward it. Before He carried the cross to Golgotha, He had already embraced it. Do not think for a second that Jesus was a victim. He told His disciples, “See, we are going up to Jerusalem… [the Son of Man] will be mocked and shamefully treated and spit upon” (Luke 18:31–32). He said this while walking toward the very suffering He described. Jesus was no victim. Why did He do it? Was there another way? Yes—there was another way: that we would bear the full weight of God’s just wrath. God’s justice would still be satisfied, but we would be the ones to pay the price. Instead, “He humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross” (Phil. 2:8). God’s wrath is not arbitrary—it flows from His holy and perfect character. He must uphold justice because He is just (Isa. 42:8; Rom. 1:18–20). And humanity, in its rebellion, has rejected Him (Rom. 1:21–23). The problem is not that God is unjust, but that man is deeply sinful—so much so that when given the opportunity, humanity did not merely reject God, but crucified Him (Acts 2:22–23). We see this clearly in the final hours of Jesus’ life. Though innocent, He was arrested, mocked, beaten, and handed over to Pontius Pilate. When given the choice between Jesus and Barabbas, the crowd chose a murderer over the Author of life and demanded that Jesus be crucified. Pilate, thinking he held authority, said to Him, “Do you not know that I have authority to release you and authority to crucify you?” But Jesus answered, “You would have no authority over me at all unless it had been given you from above” (John 19:10–11). Even in that moment, the cross was not forced upon Jesus—it was embraced by Him. Pilate then had Jesus scourged and handed Him over to be crucified (Matt. 27:24–26). Before the cross came the scourging—a brutal beating designed to tear flesh from bone. And after the scourging, before the cross, came the mockery. This is where we see what could be called foreshadowing—when an event points ahead to what is to come. Between the scourging and the crucifixion, the soldiers unknowingly acted out a scene that pointed beyond the cross: Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the governor’s headquarters, and they gathered the whole battalion before him. And they stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, and twisting together a crown of thorns, they put it on his head and put a reed in his right hand. And kneeling before him, they mocked him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!” And they spit on him and took the reed and struck him on the head. And when they had mocked him, they stripped him of the robe and put his own clothes on him and led him away to crucify him.  In Philippians 2:9–11, we are told that after Jesus endured the cross for sinners, the humbling was over, and what had always rightfully belonged to Him was fully revealed—He is both Savior and Lord: “Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” Before Jesus was crucified for our sins, buried in a borrowed tomb, and raised on the third day, the devil did his worst through the soldiers who mocked Him. Jesus was stripped, flogged, and handed over to a battalion—possibly hundreds of soldiers—who gathered to ridicule Him. They clothed Him in a scarlet robe, twisted a crown of thorns onto His head, and placed a reed in His hand. They knelt before Him in mock worship, crying out, “Hail, King of the Jews!” Then they spat on Him, beat Him with the reed, struck Him on the head, stripped Him again, and led Him away to be crucified. Do you see the foreshadowing? Even in their mockery, they were revealing why He was born, what He came to do, and what He would accomplish on the cross.   Jesus Redeemed Us (vv. 9-11) What the soldiers meant for evil, God displayed the good He was accomplishing through His Son. When they flogged, mocked, and crucified Jesus, they did not realize that centuries earlier God had spoken through the prophet Isaiah: “But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed” (Isa. 53:5). After scourging our Savior, they placed a scarlet robe on Him to mock Him—but they did not know that God had already declared: “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow… though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool” (Isa. 1:18). The soldiers twisted a crown of thorns as a form of mockery, reflecting their perverted sense of justice, yet without realizing they were placing upon Him the very representation of the curse of sin. From the beginning, after sin entered the world, God said, “thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you” (Gen. 3:18). They mocked the Lord of glory without knowing that He was born to redeem sinners and reverse the curse. What they meant for ridicule was, in reality, a declaration: the curse that was ours was being placed upon Him. As Isaiah also declared, “All we like sheep have gone astray… and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all” (Isa. 53:6). The soldiers placed a reed in Jesus’ right hand and knelt before Him, mocking Him with the words, “Hail, King of the Jews!” (Matt. 27:29). The reed—a thin

    42 min
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About

Podcast for Meadowbrooke Church Season 1 - Identity (Ephesians) Season 2 - Christians Say the Darnedest Things - Season 2 Season 3 - The Shepherd (Psalm 23) Season 4 - Faith & Works (James) Season 5 - Guest Speakers Season 6 - The Tree Season 7 - Unassigned Season 8 - Revelation

Information

  • Creator
    Meadowbrooke Church
  • Years Active
    2019 - 2026
  • Episodes
    100
  • Rating
    Clean
  • Copyright
    © Meadowbrooke Church
  • Show Website
    Meadowbrooke Church